


so familiar a gleam

by exvalk (pastel)



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel/pseuds/exvalk
Summary: After a photoshoot, Midori and Tomoya head back to the ES dorms to relax and watch some TV. Midori falls asleep.
Relationships: Mashiro Tomoya/Takamine Midori
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	so familiar a gleam

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thanks so much for clicking on this even though im probably one of 3 ppl in the fandom that likes midotomo lol... this doesn't entirely fit the prompt but !! a good warmup i think
> 
> title is from sleeping beauty
> 
> day 11, sleeping arrangements.  
> winter of their second year at yumenosaki

“D’you wanna come over, after?” Midori had asked Tomoya after the photoshoot was done, the way he sometimes did when he didn’t have any responsibilities at his family’s greengrocer and Dramatica wasn’t working on any new productions. 

Most of the other second-years were energetic, excitable people—drawn to the idol occupation for that very reason—but Midori preferred the comforts of the indoors, of sleepy afternoons and the drone of shitty reality TV. Really, they were friends for much of the same reasons that he and Hajime had become friends when they were younger, only now more of Hajime’s work was pushing him out the door, and Tomoya’s seemed to keep turning into paperwork.

He’d said yes.

He was familiar with Midori’s dorm room in ES by now, its walls the same inoffensive beige as any other room. The room wasn’t small, but it _felt_ small, if only because of the sheer number of knick-knacks scattered around—in one corner, Aoba-senpai’s books, in another Mitsuru’s disorderly pile of running shoes, and Ibara-san’s office notes scattered across the other bottom bunk with a surprising lack of care. Midori’s own bed was, of course, covered in his expansive collection of plushies, so cluttered that there was hardly room for Midori himself, much less Tomoya.

But that was where they found themselves, most of the time—shoulder to shoulder on Midori’s bunk, Midori’s laptop playing some poorly-written drama and Tomoya’s opened to an email chain between himself, Ra*bits’ new Rhythm Link manager, and their most recent client.

This time, though, work is done and behind them both—a photoshoot based on ‘the everyday charms of high school boys’, and though it’d stung a little bit that he, Midori, Mitsuru, and Hiiro had only been booked because Trickstar were busy, it had been a nice change of pace. It wrapped at two in the afternoon—good time, given that their call-time for makeup and hair had been only seven AM.

Mitsuru had come back with them, too, but he’d refused their offers to stay. “Nahhh,” he’d said, a smile just on this side of mischievous sliding onto his face, “I gotta dash! See ya later, though!”

They’d been here for a few hours now, laying on their stomachs in the wrong direction on Midori’s bed, laptop on autoplay and the plate of cut vegetables between them long since empty.

Tomoya stretches slightly, holding back a yawn. Midori’s bed _is_ comfy, especially when they’re laying on top of his downy comforter—Tomoya’s own bed in his dorm room is nice, too, but he sleeps at home unless absolutely necessary, so he hasn’t taken the pains to make it as plush as he really likes.

And speaking of home—Tomoya has to head back soon, if he’s going to make it in time for dinner.

“Mido-,” Tomoya starts, but cuts himself off when he turns to look at Midori. The other boy is fast asleep, head nestled into his crossed arms. Suddenly cautious not to move too much, hyper-aware of where their bodies are touching, all the way down his right side and Midori’s left, he reaches over to press the space bar and pause the show. He has no clue how long Midori has been asleep, but he seems deep in slumber.

This really doesn’t happen as often as one might expect.

If anything, it’s usually Tomoya passing out before the show’s over, his eyes tired from idol activities and homework and the new weight of being Ra*bits’ leader. In fact, more than once has he been woken up by Mitsuru’s always-surprised gasp of, “Tomo-chan?!” as he returns to the room. Sometimes when that happens Midori is still next to him, intently watching—as if Tomoya hadn’t fallen asleep at all, and the (embarrassing) weight of Tomoya’s head on his shoulder didn’t exist—and sometimes he’s crouched over by the room’s minifridge, peeling carrots that he’ll inevitably offer Tomoya when he leaves.

This doesn’t happen often, so it makes Tomoya pause. He looks down at Midori’s face, entirely relaxed, for once. He’s suddenly reminded of a show idea Hibiki-senpai has been toying with for a while now—Sleeping Beauty, but flipped inside out, painted with a shiny new finish.

Sleeping Beauty would be a prince, trapped in eternal slumber by his people to protect them from prophesied wars, and Prince Phillip instead a warrior-princess, unknowingly awakening the very man she’s meant to fight.

Hibiki-senpai had implied that Tomoya would be the princess, and Hokuto-senpai had been slated for the role of the prince, of course, but—strangely, Tomoya can’t help but think that Midori might be a better fit for the role, if only he would put the time to learn to act.

He’s handsome, but not quite in the sharp, traditional way Hokuto-senpai is, or at all like the indeterminable, ever-shifting charm that Hibiki-senpai possesses.

Tomoya’s gaze lingers, down the sweep of Midori’s boy-long lashes and the lingering tan across the bridge of his straight nose, the slightest curl of his brown hair against the shell of his ear and the chapped wrinkles in his barely-parted lips.

If anything, Tomoya would have to compare him to Mitsuru, though that still doesn’t quite feel right—there’s something earthy about the both of them, something natural. That something that makes Midori, passed out at five in the afternoon on a pastel green duvet printed with the ugliest mascot character Tomoya’s ever seen, seem like the prince of Hibiki-senpai’s manuscript, trapped in eternal, perfect slumber under the sun in a forest glade, just waiting for true love’s kiss to wake him up again.

Midori’s laptop screen, idle for so long, blinks out to black, and Tomoya finds himself broken out of whatever state he’d just been in.

Carefully, he extracts himself out from beside Midori, moving slowly so as not to disturb the precarious balance of sleeping boy and stuffed animal. He closes the laptop, puts it on Midori’s desk. Gathers his own things, and stands in the doorway, ready to leave. He’s really cutting it close to dinnertime now, but he takes one last look at Midori, unsure but—not opposed?—to the strange feeling that’s taken root in his chest. It’s not uncomfortable, not really. Midori’s back rises, and falls. He’s so tall his feet brush up against the back wall. 

It’s fond, maybe?

Tomoya flicks off the lights and heads home, closing the door to the dorm room so slowly it shuts without a sound.

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, if you enjoyed reading this please leave a kudo or a comment! midotomo have interacted like 3 times in canon but i hope that is not enough to dissuade u from considering them!
> 
> feel free to catch me on twt @ soumacult !


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